Minding your own business —
your business being nothing
short of climbing air
on invisible thread —
I know you are aware
of my presence,
as you react deftly
to my every move.
How do you dance
with all of those legs
as if partnered with your
-self in a perfect groove?
Prancing on well-chosen pegs,
defying fate with transparent armor,
you save yourself from my heedless wrath
with your own hypnotic grace.
Why does it mean so much to her to hear
that white truck coming up the lane?
Surely her days are not that dull.
Is it the sound
of movement on the lonely pavement
giving rhythm to her afternoon,
as she rocks back and forth
on the front porch, back
and forth, in and out of the past?
Perhaps it is the assurance
of all that waste being taken
away. She has always kept
a clean house, and rarely keeps
anything around that isn’t
No easy prey to sentiment
she’s not often moved to tears.
When she cries
you know it is with just cause.
Just as it was today, when she waved
to the young man who always has
a smile for her as he empties her
trash into his truck. How dignified
he is, doing dignified work.
This young man who reminds her of her own
boy who has for so many years been
missing in action.